A Tosa resident since 1991, Christine walks the dog, cooks but avoids housework, writes and reads, and enjoys the company of friends and strangers. Her job takes her around the state, learning about people's health. A Quaker (no, they don't wear blue hats or sell oatmeal or motor oil), she has been known to stand on both sides of the political and philosophic fence at the same time, which is very uncomfortable when you think about it. She writes about pretty much whatever stops in to visit her busy mind at the moment. One reader described her as "incredibly opinionated but not judgmental." That sounds like a good thing to strive for!
Neighboring New Berlin's high school drama of deceit and sexual predation via Facebook has the whole nation abuzz. A male student posed as a girl (or girls) in that online community, convincing boys he knew to send naked pictures of themselves. Then, using threats to expose those pictures, he blackmailed the boys into sex acts. The whole thing seems to have gone on for some time, until one boy stepped forward to protect his younger brother. I'm sure you've heard all about it.
I'm not proud of this, but when it comes to math facts, I'm a little shaky. Especially with the 7, 8, and 9 times multiplication tables.
One of my fondest childhood memories is sick days. My mom would give me fresh pajamas--in winter, warmed in front of the fireplace if it happened to be going or in the dryer if it wasn't--and tuck me in. She'd bring the radio into my room. This being in ancient times, not every room had one of those. And I'd spend the day dozing in and out of soap operas and advertisements.
The kids have gone, leaving a too-quiet house and a nearly empty refrigerator. Our Thanksgiving was warm, loving, and caloric: I hope yours was too. And for possibly the first time, my driveway is the cleanest one on the block. Unemployment has to be good for something.
I have to admit to being envious of Sarah Palin about one thing: her success in the hunt.
Yesterday was last minute get-ready-for-college shopping day with Liz. After breakfast among Harley riders and fashionable east siders at the Cafe Hollander, we headed to Greenfields to look for posters. In case you haven't been there, it's the kind of store where I'd have bought flowing skirts, incense, and posters for whatever Madison apartment I had in 1970.
With the trip meter on, it's easy to pretend I haven't just rolled the odometer over 100,000 miles on the dinged but reliable Nissan. But even the lower mileage meter's in the thousands, what with trips to campuses, family visits, and job interviews. Sometimes, you just can't get away with driving less. And even if you do, chances are your life isn't staying in the same place.